


All That Needs to Be Said

by arthurmarston



Series: One-shots [8]
Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Arthur thinks he’s nobody, Boys In Love, Chapter 2: Horseshoe Overlook (Red Dead Redemption 2), Established Relationship, Fluff, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, John thinks otherwise, M/M, Sappy, Video Game: Red Dead Redemption 2 (2018), brief suicide mention, really brief
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-04
Updated: 2019-06-04
Packaged: 2020-04-07 12:05:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19084678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arthurmarston/pseuds/arthurmarston
Summary: John realizes Arthur doesn’t see himself the way he sees him.Or: John comforts Arthur.





	All That Needs to Be Said

John doesn’t usually stay around. 

It’s not that he doesn’t want to, he just knows when he’s overstayed his welcome. Things have always been casual between them and he’s never had an issue with that. None that he’d mention or admit to. 

It is what it is, that’s what he’d tell himself after being shooed away from the other man’s tent like he’s a scavenging coyote time after time. 

He doesn’t care. Doesn’t act like he does, anyway. It’s life. You give and you take. 

But tonight’s different; Arthur’s not pushing him out the tent, boots hurriedly shoved into his arms, no, instead he’s just sitting there on the bed. Frozen. Not moving, not talking. John’s inches away. 

At first, John thinks he’s done something wrong. He can’t exactly rack his brain for an idea of what could’ve went south between the time they fucked and the time they collapsed on each other, but he’s trying. He sighs out after a few moments of painful silence, eyes looking over Arthur cautiously. 

“Did I do somethin’?” He questions, calloused voice soft and unusually quiet. 

Arthur looks up, expression emotionless. He doesn’t answer immediately, instead shrugs and shakes his head. “You didn’t.”

John feels relieved at that, the tightness in his chest dissipating somewhat, though he’s still not entirely confident. He licks his lips, eyes dropping to his hands that are in his lap, awkwardly covering his naked groin. He can feel Arthur’s heat buzzing against his skin from how close they are. 

“Then what’s wrong?” John mumbles out, brows furrowing as he interlocks his own fingers together, studying them. 

“I don’t know.” Arthur admits, broad shoulders slacking in defeat. “You can leave.”

There it is. 

John nods. Doesn’t ask why. Doesn’t press further. He stands, abrupt, and gets himself dressed as quickly as he can. He feels Arthur’s eyes on him the entire time, practically boring holes into him from how intense the stare is. He gets his boots on lastly, and then makes a dash for the tent flap. 

He won’t say it, but he wonders if this is the last time they’ll do this. 

John slips out, no words exchanged, and begins to walk off - though he stops. Doesn’t know what compels him to, but he does. He turns on his feet, staying close to the tent flap he’s just escaped out of. He leans in, close as he can get without being noticed, and attempts to listen in for any signs of life from the other man. 

It’s late; no one else is awake, and there’s no light to cast a shadow into the tent either, so John feels it’s worth the curiosity. 

Minutes go by with uninterrupted silence. There’s no shifting. No movement. Not even subtle breathing. And then there’s something - a sniffle. John’s brows knit together in confusion and he shifts his weight to lean in further. 

“They all leave you.” John hears that familiar drawl - only it’s heavy and laced with a sadness that he can’t quite describe. 

There’s another sniffle. 

“Ain’t nobody actually care about you, no. You’re jus’ an old sack of shit.” 

John’s got that heaviness in his chest again and it takes all his restraint to not say something back to Arthur through the canvas walls. 

“Ugly mug. No good. Can’t do nuthin’ right, Arthur Morgan. Useless.” 

The words are accompanied by the sounds of pencil to paper - hard scribbles that sound angry and purposeful and John imagines he’s speaking what he’s writing. 

But he doesn’t get it. Arthur Morgan isn’t ugly. He’s far from it. He’s perfection, if John’s opinion was valid enough. John thinks about the man all the time, in his dreams and is his moments alone in the wilderness. When he’s laying in bed next to Abigail... when he’s just left Arthur’s tent... 

“When you gonna just give up?” The words are crushing and sink in John’s chest when he hears them. They hurt and sting like they’re being directed at himself. 

He fights the urge to open the tent flap and storm in, fingers clasping at the edge of the canvas but then releasing when he hears what sounds like soft sobs. He’s never heard Arthur cry before. John’s spent his entire life being convinced that Arthur was incapable of such emotions - Arthur was a man. A big, strong man. And now he’s positive that he’s heard the man shatter and he doesn’t know what to do. 

“God damn, John Marston.” 

Those are the words that break John’s restraint and he rips open the flap and storms into Arthur’s tent. 

Arthur is visibly startled, body jolting as he forces his journal shut and then turns away to wipe at his face. “John! Get the hell outta here!” He cries out, voice crackling in a way John barely recognizes. It doesn’t even sound like the man he knows. 

“Arthur, what’s going on?” John asks, desperate. He doesn’t even flinch when Arthur hurls a pillow in his direction, instead he walks closer to the bed. 

Arthur turns away further, recoiling into himself in attempts to conceal his face that John knows is red and wet with tears. 

“Why you sayin’ those things to yourself?” John questions him now, voice wavering between confidence and fear. He doesn’t know what territory he’s stepping into. 

Arthur is bitter. “Why you eavesdropping, Marston?” His voice sounds wet and thick - like there’s something trapped in his throat. Saliva. Who knows. 

“Answer me first.” John croaks, “why you sayin’ them things?” 

Arthur turns to look back at John finally, defeated. John swallows hard at the sight. He doesn’t have an answer and John realizes it when he starts crying again. 

“Why, Arthur?” He presses the issue. 

“Because they’re true, John. Okay?” 

John doesn’t even realize it, but his own bottom lip is trembling. “You think you’re ugly? That you’re useless?” 

Arthur laughs, dry and empty. “I don’t think it, I know it. I ain’t nuthin’ but a dirty outlaw destined to be 6 feet deep.”

“No.” John musters, taking a few steps towards the older man. “You have no idea what you’re talkin’ ‘bout.” 

Arthur looks at him, glassy blue eyes struggling to focus. He can see the redness in them - the clear sadness. He looks miserable. 

“You’re everything I could ever hope to be...” John starts, ignoring the aching in his chest that’s telling him to shut up before he says something stupid. 

Arthur swallows down a gasp as he wipes again at his face, the dampness now across the backs of his hands. 

“Why do you think I’m always in here?” 

“Sex.” The word is blunt. Arthur doesn’t blink. 

John shakes his head. “No... I... it’s more than that, Arthur. It’s way more than that.” He admits, teeth nibbling on his lip in anxiousness. “I... I love you. I can’t stop thinking about you. All the time. I love everything about you. Your hair, your beard, your eyes, your mouth... the way you talk... the way you laugh when you’s throwin’ me on the bed... the way you kiss me... I ain’t never cared about someone the way I care about you.” 

Arthur appears stricken. With fear. With confusion. With disbelief. There’s a lot of different emotions playing across his visage. 

“I only leave after because you ask me to. It weren’t something I would do willingly. I just do it ‘cause you ask.” John feels deflated, like all the airs been punched out of him - he feels raw and open like a gunshot wound. He wants to turn and run right out but the silence is thick enough to cement his feet to the floor. 

“You love me?” Arthur finally asks now, words barely above a whisper. 

John feels like puking. “I... I do.” He stumbles on admitting it again, but he does. It’s out there now and he knows he can’t turn back. Arthur’s memory seems endless - he knows the man could never erase those words from his mind. 

Arthur swallows hard, John seeing his throat jerk when he does. And then he stands, still only wearing his union suit, and comes over to John and wraps the younger man in his arms. John melts into the touch, hugging him back hard. 

“You’re perfect, Arthur Morgan. Perfect. Ain’t no thing in this world you need to change.” John whispers to the older man, feeling Arthur trembling in his grasp. 

“I love you, too, John.” Is all Arthur replies before things go silent between the two of them. 

But it’s all that needs to be said.

**Author's Note:**

> This was just a little story I felt like writing up because I was feelin’ sad. So here’s some mild angst with some comfort. ❤️ 
> 
> Comments and kudos = ❤️
> 
> (Also, don’t worry. More smut is on the way.)


End file.
